


Colour me charmed.

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Color Blindness, Colour blind Castiel, Curious Castiel, Fluff, Gen, seeing colours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:25:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Castiel is completely colour blind, it's a defect that every angel has, but chooses not to make apparent.What happens when the Sam and Dean introduce a world of colours to him?





	Colour me charmed.

**Author's Note:**

> I based this off a tumblr post I saw the other day with a similar idea behind it, and added my own twist to it.
> 
> Comment what you think xx

Castiel looked around the room, deep stormy eyes wandering across the table where the two brothers sat intensely flicking through books. The grayscale colors flooded his vision, the different shades of black grey and white coloring the bunker.

Nothing was out of the ordinary today, Sam and Dean had come across a case involving a young man who had gotten his eyes gouged out by some creature, and where searching through a variation of books in the library in hopes of a way to kill the monster.  
"Hey Cas" Dean caught Castiel's attention, "Pass me that book over there, would ya? The one with the red writing" he gestured vaguely to a pile of scattered books without looking up, and continued to point to an image and talk to Sam, who sat on the other side of the table.

Castiel turned his head to look at the pile of old books, they were covered in a thick layer of dust that appeared to have been lazily swept off before promptly being thrown onto the desk. He walked over and observed the writing closer. 'Red' he thought before picking up a book with crimson writing scribed onto the front cover. With the book clasped in his hand, he paced over to Dean and gently sat it down in front of him.  
"Cas, I said _red_ writing" Dean said gruffly before pushing it out of his way and placing his focus on a scrap of paper with notes on it.  
"That is the red book, Dean" Castiel informed, tilting his head slightly. From the other aide of the table, Sam perked his head up in curiosity.  
Dean stopped slowly, before on tapping a picture of a hazel four-legged creature with shimmering scaled skin.  
"What color is this, Cas?"  
Castiel took a step forward, squinting his eyes to define what he though the colours to be. All the colors seemed to mix together, he didn't understand how humans seemed to always seem to know what color something was down to the shade of some absurd colour like 'Tree-sap green' or 'Yellow ocre'. He had trained himself over time to recognise specific colours, however he still often got them wrong.

"Purple" he had never seen an actual colour before, just colours interpreted into complex shades of monochrome. However, he never knew that this wasn't normal. He saw colours as what he saw before him and never questioned it to be any different, he knew that yellow was light and brown was dark, a smidge lighter than brown was red, and so on. Castiel studied Deans face. His expression was unreadable.

 

A few days later, they had travelled to a forest clearing. They stood on the edge of the cliffside, holding onto the frail railings, the sun was setting into the clouds, tinting them shades of amber, dusting them with a blushing salmon before dying down into a deep maroon at the horizon. 

Castiel turned his head to trail his eyes down to the forest depths. "What are we hunting?" He asked inquisitively.  
"Actually, Cas" Sam piped in, "We'd uh- we'd like to show you something"  
To his side, Cas could see Dean rustling around in the trunk of the impala. He searched until he apparently found what he was looking for as he picked the object up. Dean turned around to glance at Castiel, and then down at his hand before opening up his fist and extending his arm.  
On his palm lay a pair of black, thick-rimmed spectacles. Dean shook his hand slightly and Castiel cautiously took the glasses, bringing them towards himself and unfolding the frame. He closed his eyes and put them on his face.  
"I fail to see why you purchased me spectacles, my eyesight is fine. That's what these contraptions are for, am I correct?"  
Dean placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder, touching the material of his tan trench coat. "Open your eyes, Cas"

Thundery eyes flickered open, pupils dialating as new information washed over the angel, like a tidal wave of data.  
It was all so foreign, yet so beautiful. Distinguishable differences between hues, crackling and flickering to life before him like electricity.

Castiel turned to Sam, eyes flickering across him. The coffee-tinted locks, the calming colour of dough eyes staring back at him.

He stared down, deep pigments of refreshing olive clustered together in swaying blades of grass. Turning his head, he looked up following the arm connecting to his shoulder to stare at Deans face.  
New details he never even noticed before came into the light. The freckles splayed out like stars on his faintly tanned skin. The sandy, desert-y colour of his hair.  
And his eyes. The fierce, foresty green of his eyes. They seemed to go on forever, like soft moss and fresh dewdrop covered grass.

"...Dean" Castiel whispered gravely, reaching up a hand to touch the taller man's cheek. "Your eyes." He squinted "What colour are they?"

"Green" Dean answered simply.  
"Green" Castiel repeated. "I like green" he declared, and suddenly wandered off to explore the new world he had been introduced to.

"Holy fire, huh?" Sounded Sams voice from behind him. "Wasn't sure if that would actually work"  
A grin tugged on both of their faces as they watched the angel follow a sunny striped bee curiously like a small child. 

They let him meander around the grass, and stumble through the forest for hours. Crouching down and appreciating the brightly pigmented petals, but refusing to pluck them away from their stems. Leaning against great pine trees and picking up stray pinecones, noting every fleck of sage on the tips of burnt sienna. Watching the dandelion fluff that Sam blew from a yellow flower float into the wind.

Eventually, they drove back to the bunker, where they taught him the names of the different colours. Castiel had known about their existence, but not what they looked like. It was like teaching a toddler the rainbow.  
He caught on quickly, and soon began vividly describing objects to them.  
He began taking runs with Sam in the mornings, collecting scraps of leaves and materials that he found pleasing to look at and curling up next to Dean to watch television in the afternoon. Castiel understood why human regarded colour with such respect now. Why some dedicated their life to capturing the natural flow of it in photographs, or creating their own scene using paints. Castiel never took off his glasses after putting them on.


End file.
